Behind The Glass Door

Chapter 18

There are mentions of ED and throw-up in this chapter!! I'll mark it with ⊹⊹⊹ when it starts and ends.

Lacy:

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Dance was defined as a series of movements that match the speed and rhythm of a piece of music. 

I described it as torturously beautiful.

"Ah, Lacy!" Mr Allard said happily, "We missed you last week," he said.

"Me too," I lied to him with a fake frown, "I had the flu," I said.

"Terrible," he shook his head, "May I speak to you about something?" he smiled sweetly.

"Of course," I said.

"Can you do fifth position arms, please?" he asked.

I did as I was told and brought my arms above my head, aligning my middle finger and thumb. 

"Now to first," he said.

And I did, I brought them down to first position.

"Look at your hands," he said.

I looked at them confused before looking up at him.

"Those hands are Russian ballet hands, we are in France, my dear," he chuckled.

I laughed and my hands went to my mouth to cover it, trying to close my mouth and stifle my laughter. Mr. Allard only laughed along with me, his body shaking with laughter.

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry," I swatted away my laughter.

"Don't be sorry," he smiled.

"I was trained to do Russian ballet, not French style," I told him with a smile.

"I hate the Russians," he said seriously before bursting with laughter, "I'm just joking, but I do hate Russian ballet, so odd," he cringed.

I chuckled to myself, "I'll work on my hands," I smiled.

"Very good," he smiled.

I dismissed myself and stood in front of the barre, waiting for class to start. 

"Okay, get with your partners and do the lift we practiced last week. Lacy, I'm sure Elliot will fill you in," Mr. Allard smiled, scanning the room for Elliot, "Where the hell is Elliot?" he asked. 

"Do you want me to go look for him?" I asked.

"Please," Mr. Allard sighed, running a hand through his hair as I walked out of the studio and grabbed the keychain lanyard from my bag, sliding it through my wrist and running up the five flights of stairs before stopping at Elliot's dorm.

⊹⊹⊹

I sorted through the keys on the lanyard, spotting Elliot's and jamming it into the lock before twisting the doorknob and opening the door. I heard retching from the bathroom, closing the door behind me. 

"Did I get you sick?" I asked Elliot as I ran over to him, to the tiny bathroom his room came with.

I looked around him. Throw up was on the seat, dripping down his chin and my eyes went up to see it dripping down his arm, leading up to his middle and pointer finger covered in bile. 

Words couldn't begin to describe how taken aback I felt. My heart dropped to my stomach, and I felt queasy. 

"Don't act surprised, please?" Elliot sighed, eyes sad as he could tell my exact emotions from the frown on my face.

"How long have you been doing this?" I asked quietly.

"Since I was fifteen," he said.

"You...," my brain shut down and my head spun as I thought of what to do. "You need to go to a hospital," I swallowed hard.